Fate: SEVER
by SuchBass
Summary: Things are not as they should be in Fuyuki. An impossible Sixth Grail War has begun, embroiling the city in conflict. A boy strives to avenge his loss, a shadow seeks his purpose, and at the center of it all, forces unknown pull at their strings. Can Fuyuki ever truly recover from its dark past, or is it destined to remain a battleground forever?
1. Prologue: Blood in the Snow

Prologue – **SABER**

Fuyuki was an ugly place. Not its buildings, no – the suburbs of Miyama Town were home to beautiful traditional constructions that earned the envy of architects all over the world, and the Shinto district east of the Mion river showcased the very best of modern development. Glass towers, reinforced with steel and concrete, that would elsewhere be fashioned into ugly eyesores, instead formed elegant symbols of progress. No, Fuyuki City's rot was not on the surface. Its skin was as soft and smooth as a geisha's, pleasant to look at – on the surface, at least. If one possessed the appropriate gifts, digging just a little below the makeup on the geisha's skin would reveal extensive scarring.

War. For centuries, war had ravaged this place, tearing holes in the pretty image that met the untrained eye. Don't misunderstand, not the kind of war one would normally see. No guns. No planes, no tanks. No, the war fought here had never required the use of such mundane, primitive weaponry. Here, the soldiers fought not for their countries, but for names. Tohsaka. Einzbern. Makiri. A scattering of others: Archibald, Emiya, Velvet. To the average listener, these meant little. That's understandable; after all, more than anything else, these families strove to keep their machinations hidden from the unremarkable passers-by that spent their days unwittingly trudging through a warzone. Why was this? It was quite simple, really. The rest of the world wasn't ready to know about magic just yet.

Half a world away, in London, the Magus Association had made a decision untold years ago that Magi should always make an effort to keep their workings secret from the public. Understandable, to some. To others, this seemed an unnecessary obstacle, or a power grab by the Clock Tower. Gradually, though, magic became restricted to workshops and places of power deemed suitable for its practice. Once the workers of miracles revered around the world, we had become completely anonymous. Yes, that's right. _We_. I myself have sought the Higher Mysteries, and given my lineage, I was likely to come closer than most. The lineage, that is, of the Tohsaka family. To a Magus, especially a Japanese one, that's a name that warrants some respect. Yes, I was the heir to the ancient family of magicians called Tohsaka.

My father, Tohsaka Matahachi, the eighth generation head of our family, supervised his domain of Fuyuki from a Western-style mansion in the gaijins' district of Miyama. Well, when I say "his domain", what I really mean is "the land that the Clock Tower tasked him with looking after", or rather, it was our family's duty to ensure that any Magi living in Fuyuki didn't do anything stupid. See, I say that, but five wars have been fought here. Five times have Magi come together in this city, using wanton destruction and murder as tools to obtain what they desire. What, you may ask, could possibly be worth centuries of fighting and dying on one's own land?

Well, what is your greatest wish?

Such a response may come across as irrelevant, an attempt to deflect a serious question, but alas, it is the answer. What we'd spent centuries battling over would allow that greatest wish to be realised. What we sought was nothing less than the Holy Grail itself. Subsequently, these conflicts in Fuyuki, wherein seven Magi, whom we called Masters, placed their lives on the line to earn a single miracle, came to be known as Holy Grail Wars. Every sixty years, the Grail would re-emerge, and battle would be joined anew by those whose ambition brought them to Fuyuki.

However, rather than a history lesson, I needed to be looking to the future. After all, the eve of the Sixth Holy Grail War was rapidly approaching. Soon, each Master would receive a sign on their own body that he or she was worthy to compete in this most prestigious of battles. As the eighth head of the Tohsaka family, my father would be receiving his mark soon. All things considered, he was a perfect candidate for a Master. However, this raised one question:  
Why on earth was it _me_ who'd received the Command Seal?

It came as a burn. I'd been in my family's workshop, pouring magic into a gem - Tohsaka Magi, you see, specialise in the transfer of power, and gems are particularly strong conduits for storing magic. However, the stoic concentration that regularly accompanied my training had vanished in an instant. Fire. I cried out and jerked back from the sudden pain that seared the back of my hand. _My hand is on fire. No, it's been branded with hot iron. No, I've rested it on a hot stove!_ Hurriedly, I doused my searing flesh with water, but the burn remained just as intense. It was only after cradling it for several minutes that I mustered up the courage to look. Deep crimson. At first glance it seemed like blood, but blood rarely forms intricate patterns or burns the flesh. Still sizzling slightly, the red mark on my hand slowly acquired a dull glow.

Two concentric rings, the pattern formed, pierced by a thin crescent like the blade of a scimitar. As the glow set in, the pain began to fade, and with a start I was struck by both realisation and acceptance. _This pattern... it must be a Reijuu. I've acquired the Command Spell of the Tohsaka family._ Breathing deeply, I rolled my sleeves up to fully expose the brand. I cleared my throat, and steeled myself against the truth of what I found myself sighing aloud.  
"I am a Master."

"Come again?!" A deep voice, rigid with authority, boomed across the room as Tohsaka Matahachi swept into the workshop. I'd been so wrapped up in the shock of my branding that I hadn't heard him enter. I turned to meet his steely blue gaze, eyeing me with suspicion. Arms folded, my father repeated his question. Hurriedly I raised my hand, showing plainly the Seal that now lay upon it. His face, all hard planes and angles, showed no reaction to the mark save for a slight tightening of his mouth. He stopped to consider this new development for a moment, briefly adjusting the tie of his red suit before meeting my gaze again.  
"I see. The Grail works mysteriously at times," he began, before turning back to the door. "No matter. Keep at your training until sundown. We shall discuss this further over dinner." He took his first step back up the stairs, but a sudden thought leapt at me.

"Hold on, Father."

His head popped back through the door. "Yes, Renzoku?"

"Why did you come down here in the first place? Did you have something you wanted to discuss?"

"I came to observe your training, as is normal. Suffice it to say, I was a little underwhelmed to enter and find you losing your concentration and wailing like an infant. It's not becoming of a boy your age, yelling and raving about every unexpected development." I felt my cheeks heat up. _So he saw that..._

"I see. I'm sorry, Father. I shall try to remain more composed in the future."

"Indeed." The older man disappeared again, and his fading footsteps lulled me back into my training. _Fill the gem, Renzoku_. Unthinking, I flipped the invisible switch inside my body and felt power flood my Magic Circuits. The routine of my magic made the hours until sundown disappear like water down a drain; before I knew it, a bell – and my stomach – were summoning me to the dining room.

Although I was starving, I made my best effort to attack my food slowly; Mai, our housekeeper, had gone all-out and prepared four courses of elegant Japanese food. A Tohsaka, after all, must be elegant in all things. Under Father's stare, I demolished a bowl of miso soup with mussels, some tofu and crab sauce, countless rolls of chirashi sushi and glazed black cod, all washed down with a jar or two of sake. _Elegant._ I'd long since finished and was preparing to excuse myself when Father finally spoke up.

"You don't think you're ready to fight."

It was not a question; he spoke with absolute certainty. Fixing my eyes to the mahogany dining table, I muttered a solemn "No."

"Then you'll have no complaints if I become the Tohsaka Master in your stead." Certain again, but this time with a questioning glance. For some reason, my fingers tightened their grip on the table's edge.

"No, Father." For a moment, he almost looked satisfied.

"The ritual to transfer a Reijuu is... complicated. We will have to summon my Servant while you still bear the Seal. Are these conditions acceptable?"

I felt inexplicable discomfort at the thought of losing the Seal, but I kept my head down and nodded. "Yes, Father."

* * *

My watch told me it was ten minutes until three in the morning. That was the hour both mine and my father's power hit their respective peaks, when we'd bring forth our – _his_ – Servant in the dark workshop that occupied the basement. Everything was perfect – our Magic running high, the summoning circle drawn, my concentration and his finely tuned for the ritual about to take place. _Tick. Tick_. My watch probably wasn't loud enough to make a noise so prominent, but the utter silence in the workshop was enough to make it pulse in my ears like drums. Father, elegant in his red suit, stood with his hands folded behind his back, patiently awaiting the hour. I allowed myself a few minutes of clarity and preparation, until my watch read two minutes to three. _Time to go to work_. I approached the circle of ground redstone and began:

" _A base of silver and steel_  
 _A foundation of stone."_ My voice resonated with power, as if an entire choir chanted the invocation along with me. The circle began to glow faintly, its dull red base tentatively reaching out with bands of white light.

 _"And the Archduke of Contracts_  
 _An Ancestor, my great Master:_  
 _Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg."_ The sorcerer's name must have triggered something, for the glow intensified to a shine, and the light began oscillating madly, as if dancing. My Magic Circuits sparked with activity as I readied myself to anchor the Servant to the world.

 _"A wall to block the falling wind_  
 _The gates of all four directions_ close." Through the mad waltz of the white light, the red circle's shining pattern began to come forth. As if in time with the crimson light, I felt a connection to something intangible, drawn to the circle and my mana. _It's here_.

 _"From the lake, come forth_  
 _And follow the forked road to the Temple._ " Where my neck was tingling, I felt an invisible hand reach out and begin drawing on my power to manifest itself. _Be welcome here, hero of ages past_. _Wait, is Father shouting_? The outside world ceased to exist as I finished the incantation.  
 _"Come forth from the circle of constraint_  
 _Blademaster of the Dawn!"_

With a final flash of blinding white, I felt a presence, impossibly powerful, touch down in the room. I hardly had time to congratulate myself before a truck collided with my side. _No, that's not right._ Shocked, I turned to find Father tackling me to the floor, his usual stoic expression replaced by feral desperation. _He_ was _shouting_. My ears were ringing, but I saw his lips form the word "Fight!" before a bar of white light smashed him off of me and into the far wall. An ice cold boulder dropped into my stomach, freezing me in place as my mouth hung open and my eyes widened, as if needing to drink in more light to comprehend what had just happened. The presence that had arrived began laughing softly, and I tore my gaze from my father to face it.

A tailored suit, black as night. Paper-white skin that seemed to drink the light of the room. A single finger, raised towards where I'd been stood mere moments ago, smoke swirling around it as residual mana from his attack leaked into the air. The soft laugh came from a mouth twisted in a sneer, pale pink lips and white teeth flashing. Wavy hair, as white as snow, fell past his shoulders, and a few locks sat in front of his eyes. Crimson, and glowing slightly, they seemed to look through me and straight at my quickly-accelerating heart, as if his gaze alone could still its pulse. Contrary to his twisted smile, his eyes seemed bored by the events going on around him.

As I stared, dumbfounded, at the intruder, he raised his free hand to his mouth and took a small bite from an apple nearly as red as his eyes. _Fight!_ Fumbling in an embarrassingly ill-executed attempt to stand, I'd barely made it to one knee before the hand that had struck down Tohsaka Matahachi was suddenly pointing itself at me. Swallowing hard, I flicked the switch in me once more and felt my body fill with power. My hand darted to my pocket, closing around four gems. A sharp prick in my neck. The man before me exuded such an aura of murderous intent that I could feel his attack coming even before his Circuits discharged. The gem was already flying across the room by the time that white light appeared again.

" _Schild_." With my word, the gem released its stored power and blossomed into a barrier of emerald, absorbing the stranger's attack before shattering. With that borrowed moment, I scrambled to my feet. _Where the hell is my Servant?_ Realisation kicked in as my opponent's aura of death reached me again. I could still sense the Servant in the circle, patiently awaiting my mana. _If I can just get a moment..._ Wordlessly, the man in black sent death arcing towards me once again, the white stream sinking again into the green wall before both vanished as quickly as they appeared. My moment did not appear to be nearing, and I only had another six gems on my person. _Without some kind of opening, I can't let my Servant out_.

Two more shields fell to the man's white beams, and still he approached. A backwards glance, stolen as my fourth _Schild_ activated, informed me that I was quickly running out of room to retreat. Another flash of light, and I cast another gem at him, this time adding a blade of wind from my own mana reserves. Another arc of light whipped out of his free hand, wiping my feeble attack out of existence. Another. Another. Before I knew it, I stood with my back to the wall, holding up my last gem as if to shield myself from the onslaught of raw magical power this stranger was throwing at me. For the first time that night, the man in black spoke.

"Speak your name before you die, boy. You lasted longer than I'd have expected," he growled, in a rich voice filled with reluctant respect, "And even managed to throw out an attack. Even if it failed, your tenacity is admirable. You would have been a dangerous opponent, if left alone."

Clutching my last defense with fingers white at the knuckles, I met his bloody glare. "My name is Tohsaka Renzoku, and I'm not dying tonight." He acknowledged me with another sneer.

"I am Otori Chagatai, and this strike, Tohsaka Renzoku, marks your end." The scarlet of his gaze intensified, and I unthinkingly began to prepare a defence. _Mystic Eyes? It's not possible!_ Chagatai raised a hand to his eyes, and their glow became a shine.

" _Gei-in Shu'a Medekoros_!" Tides of crimson death began swirling in his eyes, and I felt a cold acceptance. _This is how it ends, huh_. Time ground to a near-halt, and I saw Father's grim concentration as he demonstrated a spell. _Oh, no. My life's not really flashing before my eyes, is it?_ With a roar of defiance, Tohsaka Matahachi pulled himself to his feet from the floor and summoned a jet of flame from the ruby in his wedding ring. Shock flashed in Otori's eyes for a moment as he turned away from me to face my father. The blast from his Mystic Eyes met the brunt of Matahachi's inferno, and the two Magi acknowledged each other with grim silence. _The Servant!_ I forced myself out of the corner and practically flew across the workshop to the circle where the spirit waited patiently. Reaching out with all the mana I could muster, I cried out:

" _If thou dost abide by the summons of the Holy Grail, ANSWER ME!_ "

In an instant, my Circuits were sucked dry by the Servant materialising, and I fell to the ground. With black tinting the edges of my vision, I was dimly aware of a man standing before me in a kimono. His hair, a reddish-brown mop tied roughly back with a band of cloth, blew about his head as if ruffled by some unseen wind. With little but a glance down at me, his Master, he exploded into action at my word.

"Save... Dad." Blackness filled the world, and the Command Spell seemed to burn anew.

* * *

 _Author's Notes:_

 _Update - changed dialogue line spacing and shortened paragraphs to make the formatting seem a little less 'heavy' - should hopefully be slightly easier reading now._


	2. Prologue (2): A Deeper Red

Prologue (2) – **SABER**

* * *

 _ **Interlude – The Adversary With Eyes of Sanguine  
**_

* * *

 **The Servant took his first breath amidst chaos. Flame battled white light and streaks of crimson as the one who'd called him collapsed at his feet. His command had not been specific, but its urgency spurred the bladesman into action. A small work of magic brought his blade from thin air into his hand, its balance as perfect as he remembered. He crossed the room in but a breath, nullifying magic from both combatants as he took his place between the two Magi. He leveled his steel and his gaze at the one with the white hair, shielding the aged blue-eyed Magus behind him with his body. With the Servant standing in his way, the sneering Magus was incapable of harming the father of his Master. As such, the order had been carried out, even if it did seem a waste of a Command Seal. Glancing backwards at the older man, he announced himself.  
"Servant Saber answers the summons. The boy, he is my Master?" a grim nod from the wounded man.**

" **Correct. However, as he is incapacitated, will you heed my orders in his stead?"**

" **Very well. My sword is yours, proxy Master." Tohsaka Matahachi raised a hand towards the intruder.**

" **Do what you can to bring me his head."**

 **Saber allowed himself a grin. "I thought you'd never ask."**

 **Leaving the boy under his father's protection, Saber dashed at the enemy. Those blank red eyes seemed to register panic for a brief moment before he leapt towards the door. _Pursue_. With the ease of a tiger stalking a fleeing pig, Saber ascended the stairs to the ground floor of the Tohsaka mansion.**

 **The pursuit took Saber out into the front yard, where Chagatai finally turned to face him. His white skin seemed to reflect the moonlight, giving him a faint sheen like a sword's edge catching a glimmer of light. Cherryblossom trees swayed silently in the light breeze, surrounding Saber in a false sense of serenity that clashed jarringly with the situation at hand. Again, Chagatai chanted the invocation for his Mystic Eyes. An opening. Saber danced forward, steel flashing, and his blade parted flesh like silk.  
Or, at least, it should have.**

 **He was met with the screaming ring of metal on metal as a sword appeared from thin air to block his strike. A hilt held by a strong, callused hand. A slightly curved blade, mere inches shorter than his own, forged of dim yet razor-sharp black steel. While nothing of legendary proportions, this sword had clearly been created with care, and by a master at that. Saber leapt back from the new adversary, dropping into a defensive stance. Only after regaining control of his breath did he study the opponent that had appeared before him. Wild. That was the first word that came to mind as he examined the interloper. Shaggy black hair coated his chest and arms, and a mane of it was held behind his head in a ponytail. Olive-skinned and wiry with muscle, the swordsman that confronted him clearly had something of a beast in him. _He's like a feral dog_. While Saber likely held the tactical edge, this Servant looked like one to win with sheer ferocity. Electing to ignore the Master for now, Saber dived back into the fray to gain an offensive edge over the new Servant. Their blades met once more. This time Saber met his gaze, too. Two orbs of amber stared back at him behind that black sword. He'd been wrong. Nowhere was the bestial fury he'd expected. Despite all appearances, this was a calculating fighter. Their swords pulled away from one another. **

**Capitalising on Saber's momentary hesitation, the other Servant leapt high and swept down at him with a powerful slash. _Too hard to parry_. Saber jumped to the side, avoiding the strike by mere inches, and parried two more slashes from above and his right. Still in his enemy's golden eyes was that calculating serenity, yet he struck out with the wild fervour of a cornered beast. _I had him wrong. This here is no dog; he's a wolf_. Switching stances, Saber circled for a moment, then went in with a stab like lightning at the head. The Servant ducked, Saber's sword whistling past his ponytail, and appeared to be readying a low kick. Saber strangled that stratagem in the crib with a downward slash at the now-exposed head of his adversary. Aborting his attempt at a counter, the wild man dropped to the floor and rolled back out of sword range, back on his feet in a split second. He broke out in a grin, flashing pointed white teeth.**

" **You fight with a sword," Saber began, "Yet you show disdain for form. That carefree way you fight... are you, by chance, an Archer?" The wild man's grin widened.  
"Not _an_ Archer, Knight of Swords. The very best!" Saber allowed himself a smirk at Archer's jovial demeanour. "In fact," the man continued, "I don't believe my Master would refuse a demonstration." Chagatai remained silent. Saber readied himself for a ranged attack, his kimono replaced in a flash by a suit of lacquered steel armour. The magic woven through it tingled as it interacted with his body. _Feels like home_. His attention was brought back to Archer by the rasp of metal on leather. Sheathed in simple leather, the sword seemed as plain and rugged as Archer himself. Saber decided it suited him. In a similar flash to that of his own armour, a composite bow materialised in front of Archer. He caught it out of the air, running a hand along its staff. Saber could not define its make by sight alone, but it was beautiful: nearly five feet of dark wood, clearly crafted with passion and care. Oiled to the point of shining, its staff forked elegantly at the ends to accommodate the string. Though Saber could not make out what that string was made of, it shimmered as Archer plucked it to test the tension. _Beautiful, for an instrument of death_. He glanced to his own sword, masterfully crafted and possessing equal beauty, and felt that he understood. **

**Much like the bow, an arrow materialised in Archer's hands. Three feet of sleek birchwood it was, fletched with eagle feathers and tipped with a wide metal blade. Leaping back a distance that would be impossible for any but a Servant, Archer nocked his arrow and drew. Even at this distance, Saber could feel the Servant's eyes zeroing in on his head. This first shot was also intended to be the last. Clearing his head of doubt, Saber focused his sight on the one part of Archer's body that would give him the signs he needed to dodge. The second his draw arm lost tension, the arrow would be committed to its path; a path Saber could move out of and survive. A deep breath. Twenty yards separated them, yet the creak of the bowstring was deafening. Saber's entire body was poised, ready to make the marksman miss.  
"Be warned, Knight of Swords," called the bowman from across the yard, "I never miss my target!" **

**As that last word left Archer's mouth, the tension in his draw arm disappeared. _Now!_ Saber's coiled body sprang to the left, and the arrow screamed past his head. Grinning, he raised his eyes to meet Archer's gaze. But the gold eyes weren't focused on him. Behind. Archer was looking past Saber, back to the house. _He never misses his target_. Fighting to restrain a sinking feeling, Saber turned to where Archer was watching. There stood Tohsaka Matahachi, eagle feathers protruding from his neck as blood, of a deeper red than even his suit, spread across his shirt and dribbled on the flagstones. The creeping cold of failure formed a lump in the swordsman's throat.  
**

* * *

 _ **Interlude Out**_

* * *

I awakened in a high-backed armchair, my head propped up by a plump pillow. Slightly groggy from the fall, I attempted to piece together how I'd gotten there. I jolted upright. _Chagatai. Father. The Servant. Crap, what am I doing here napping?!_ Despite this intense realisation, I held myself back from racing back to the workshop and briefly checked myself over. The surge of magical energy I gave to the Servant had been enormous enough to make me pass out, so my mana reserves were practically running on fumes. _Wait_. A brief check told me I was still brimming with power. _What the hell? That can't be right._ While I was grateful, it was impossible not to be confused; even for a Magus of my lineage and skill, such a quick and total regain of power from an – I glanced at my watch – eight-minute snooze should not have been possible. A glimmer drew my attention to a small end table next to my chair.

A fine crystal dodecahedron caught and refracted the warm lamplight of the living room, and cast a tiny rainbow on the wood-panelled wall opposite. _One of Father's gems._ I closed my fist around it, and a quick scan told me it was completely empty of mana. _Father must have filled up my mana using this while I was out._ Warm relief washed over me, for it was verification that the Servant had followed my order, and Father – no, _Dad_ was safe. I allowed myself another look at the Command Spell on my hand, and saw that the thin crescent which pierced the two rings had faded from sanguine to a dull brown.

"Great," I groaned aloud to myself, "Just damn great. I've blown an absolute command on saving the old man." Despite the bitterness of my tone, I cracked a smile. _Back to the workshop, I suppose_. I heaved myself to my feet. Eight steps took me into the hallway, where the door to the basement still stood open. I stood opposite a mirror mounted on the wall, and reflected in the glass was an uncertain boy, by all appearances.

Ruffled from my brief rest on the chair, my hair stuck out in a few places. Brown, it was, lighter than was normal for a Tohsaka, but my Mother had always said it made me seem softer than Fa- Dad. As a kid, that had seemed awful; I'd always assumed my lot in life was to grow up to be stoic and strong like him, and to be called 'soft' when my role model had such a hard exterior struck a real sour note. _Come to think, my face_ is _softer than his_. Dad's face had always looked to me like it was carved from granite: unmoving and sharp, its features tough and angular. Mine, to continue the rock analogy, was more like sandstone: smoother round the edges, with curved inclines where Dad had knife-edge angles. However, even with all those fundamental differences, we still had the one unmistakable connection shared by all our family: the eyes. Set into granite and sandstone alike were deep pools of ice, with which a soft glance could melt a heart, and a sharp glare could pierce one.

Clang.

 _Wait, what?_ From somewhere nearby I could hear the clash of metal on metal, as if a blacksmith were working in the house. _Wait, that's ridiculous. What_ is _that sound, anyway?_ As if in response to my thoughts, a voice in my head began screaming at me, accompanied by a sharp prick in the back of my neck. _Danger! It's the same as when I was fighting Chagatai._ A quick search of the house's Bounded Fields told me the interior was empty. Outdoors, then. _Chagatai must still be here_. His red eyes flashed cruelly in my mind's eye. Panic seized me. Unthinking, I tore my gaze from my reflection and barrelled out of the front door, straight into a nightmare.

It did not immediately strike me as an important observation that two long-dead heroes were doing their utmost to murder each other in my front yard. Their entire existence was but a dim awareness flitting about at the edges of my mind. The red-eyed monster observing the battle was also naught but an afterthought. _Dad_. A red stain had spread across the flagstones and was seeping into the welcome mat. I felt my stomach twist like I was about to be sick, but all that emerged was a strangled cry. Everything became blurry, and a quiet voice told me I was crying. _I can't cry now. A Tohsaka must be elegant in all-_ A tiny, wet impact on my shoe confirmed it. More inhuman cries jerked themselves out of me as I collapsed beside him. I felt warm wetness seeping up into my knees. The nausea intensified. As my cries turned to moans, I took my father in my arms. More blood covered my hands, stuck my shirt sleeves to my arms.

Clang.

 _The Servants are still fighting,_ said someone else in my head. I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve, and my vision cleared at the price of having more of Dad's blood smeared on my forehead. _I need to go help my Servant._ The voice of reason was nothing but an echo, blowing faintly about like the frigid winter breeze. My moans lost all energy, and became a continuous, choking sob. With trembling fingers, I seized the arrow in Dad's throat, but no sooner had I gripped it than it disappeared in a shimmer of blue light. _It's beautiful. The thing that killed Dad shouldn't be so beautiful._ Dad seemed to be looking at the moon. I looked a little closer, and saw that the ice had glazed over to become blue glass. _No_.

Shaking, and still sobbing like a newborn, I lowered Tohsaka Matahachi to the ground. With fingers crusted in his blood, I gently closed his eyes. Fight. That was what he had said, even as he threw his own life on the line to save me from Chagatai's opening attack. _I have to listen to Dad_. My legs only steadied a little as I raised myself to one knee. My tears felt hotter. I became aware that grief had given way to rage. _I am his heir, and must obey his commands._ My other foot found itself on stone. My teeth ground together like millstones, and my fists were clenched so hard that my nails threatened to tear straight through my palms. The foggy mire of shock and misery were burned away in an instant, replaced with the pure lust for vengeance. _No, not pure._ Something else was in there too, and it felt just like learning a spell under Dad's stare. _Fight_. I raised my head to observe the battle unfolding in front of me. Stood between me and Chagatai was my own Servant, his kimono gone, replaced by a fine set of lacquered armour. In his hands was the finest _katana_ I had ever laid eyes on, its steel reflecting the moonlight. Its edge looked sharp enough to cut the air itself in half. Further away still stood Chagatai's Servant, glowering calmly with a beautiful bow in hand. _Servant Archer._

"So the son comes forth, baptised in the blood of the father. Splendid! It's simply biblical." That rich voice sung out again, filled with glee. My fists clenched even tighter, and my switch flicked again. My body was brimming with the reassuring warmth of magic. Chagatai must have caught on to my surge in power, for his trademark sneer returned. "Do you really believe this will end differently than before? You have no gems left. Kneel, and I may let you live long enough to bury the old man."

"Keep talking, Otori," I spat, "Because by the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging for my Servant to gut you." My challenge was so filled with contempt that I saw those empty eyes flicker with interest.

Interest turned to amusement as a laugh bubbled up from the white monster. He raised a hand to cover his mouth, and I caught my first look at his Command Spell: three sharp lines on his left hand, converging at the base of his middle finger. The both of us stood ready to release so much power that the air seemed to crackle. I turned my attention to the man in armour, who'd broken away from his olive-skinned adversary to look at me.  
"Servant!" his dark gaze met mine, and even at a distance I could see his regret. _He's as hurt as me_. Swallowing my pity, I embodied the elegant Tohsaka. "Redeem your failure, and kill the bowman. The Master shall be my concern alone." the mention of redemption seemed to give him renewed vigour, and his grip on the blade tightened.

"Servant Saber hears and obeys, Master. My sword is yours."

A rush of wind. Before I could even think, Saber had halved the distance between him and Archer. Two arrows whipped past his head, his body seeming to move itself out of harm's way without his conscious input. I racked my brain as Chagatai raised his hand, spells flashing through my mind in their dozens before I found the perfect attack. " _Schild,_ " I began, and a weak barrier projected itself off a small Rune inscribed on my chest. But protection wasn't the only magic I knew. I raised my hand toward Chagatai as his light began to discharge at me, and in my mind's eye I was a child again. Stern eyes watched from the corner of the workshop. The incantation came out before I was done thinking.

" _Gandr: Streuen!_ " Twelve tiny curses exploded from my fingers, careering towards my enemy as his own magic broke against my shield. It was said that my great-grandmother Rin had been a prodigy in her time. Her Gandr curse had supposedly packed the same punch as a pistol shot. But a family's magecraft only gets stronger with time. It was my father who'd first attempted dividing the curse up into multiple projectiles, peaking at six. I had doubled that figure. To put that into perspective, this curse was like a twelve-gauge shotgun, certain to deal death to anyone who was struck unprepared.

That unpreparedness was key, though, and it seemed I had been far too optimistic: in the instant it took my curse to reach him, Chagatai had already begun his own defensive spell.

" _Sigil: Namaig Khamgaalakh!_ " The air shimmered in front of him, and my curse dissipated harmlessly. _Sigil? Is that some kind of offshoot from Rune magic?_ I had many questions about this man's abilities, but I couldn't let them stop me. The same curse on my lips, I took advantage of Chagatai's defensive focus to ramp up my attacks. No change. Clearly, this level of power wasn't going to break through. More clashes of magic lit up the garden as I desperately searched for an opening. A Gandr broke upon a Sigil. A flash of light crumbled out of existence along with a barrier. Despite my earlier panic in the workshop we seemed, at least at this stage, to be evenly matched. At last, after what felt like an age, the pressure from Gandr Streuen forced all his mana into defence, his Sigil burning brightly as my curses crashed uselessly against it. I raised both my hands just as its light began to weaken.

" _Rei_ _ßt die mauern nieder!_ " in the gaps between where my fingers and thumbs met, a dark blue sphere, almost black at its core, grew. This, designed specifically for piercing defensive barriers, was probably my strongest single-line curse; if Gandr Streuen was a twelve-gauge shotgun, _this_ was an anti-materiel rifle, a nigh-unstoppable single-target shot. I let it fly. With a quiet hum, it flew toward Chagatai's Sigil, and I readied myself to strike him down once it broke.

A prick in my neck.

Again, I felt danger coming from somewhere. _His face_. Chagatai showed no fear. Instead, his sneer had twisted itself into a savage grin.

" _Ööriin,_ " His invocation began. The cold fingers of terror wrapped themselves tightly around my throat. _I'm going to die. I don't know how he's going to do it, but I'm going to be killed._ A current of mana swept up my curse, and it stopped inches from Chagatai's hand. " _Zamyg butsakh!_ " in an instant, the blue orb was charging back towards me. I tried to ready a spell, but my tongue stumbled on the words. _I can't make a barrier. It'll just tear right through_. The ball's hum seemed as loud as a jet engine. _I'll have to cancel it with something, but what? Think, Renzoku, think..._ Too late. The curse was too close now for me to do anything. I tried to move, but my feet seemed rooted to the ground, my shoes as heavy as lead. In my panic, I thrust my hands out. With a desperate cry, I readied myself to hurl all my magical energy at my oncoming death. A mass of black blocked out my vision. _Hang on, what?_

"No need for that, Master!" Saber stood before me, all lacquered steel and wild red-brown hair. There was no sign of my spell; it must have been cancelled from his mere presence. Relief washed over me, but something was still bothering me. _Of course! If Saber has time to be saving me, then where's Archer?_ A glance over Saber's shoulder revealed the wolfish man at the shoulder of his monstrous Master.

Chagatai's bloody glare caught and held my gaze.

"The boy of Tohsaka has some strength, after all. Splendid!" I ground my teeth. _No murderer should sound that happy_. "However," he continued, "With that annoying swordsman dropping everything to save you, it is clear that I shan't obtain victory without unveiling the mystery of my Archer. How lamentable!" His voice was filled with melodramatic sorrow, as if he were an actor in a tragedy. "Very well. I shall let you live long enough to bury your father, if nothing else. May we meet again, Tohsaka Renzoku!" With a flourish, Chagatai allowed himself to be swept up by Archer, who leapt over the wall of the garden with inhuman ease and vanished into the night. Saber glanced at me as if awaiting orders, but I remained silent. _He's right. I need to bury Dad_. I turned back to the house, where he lay still. My legs protested as I walked over to him, and I found myself on my knees on the porch much the same as I'd been when I first emerged from the mansion. Saber's imposing figure cast a shadow over me and Dad as hot tears found their way into my eyes again.

"Master?" The bladesman's voice was warm and soft. "You look exhausted. If you would like to rest, I can tend to his bo-"

" _No!_ " I sprang to my feet and whirled to face him. His sharp eyebrows were raised, his dark eyes widened to register surprise at my outburst. A sob shook itself out of me. "I told you to _help_ him," cried a weak boy who sounded like Tohsaka Renzoku. "I told you to _save_ him! You came too late!" The tears came more strongly now. My hands, suddenly fists, beat weakly against the Servant's steel chestplate.

"You came too _late..._ "

* * *

 _Author's Notes:_

 _Just wanted to touch on a couple of things that reader Gashadokuro Amanojaku brought up in a PM, that may seem odd to seasoned Fate fans and come across as mistakes. Any other questions raised so far in reviews and PMs alike will be addressed later in the story._

 _1.) My referring to the Tohsaka as 'magicians' was not meant to be taken in the sense that they can use the Second Magic - Kaleidoscope and similar phenomena are referred to in the translation of the VN I read as 'Sorcery' or 'True Magic', while lesser workings of magic I refer to interchangeably as 'Thaumaturgy', 'Magecraft' and 'Magic'. This follows with my describing practitioners of magic as 'Magicians', 'Magi' or 'Thaumaturgists', while Zelretch is referred to in the first Prologue segment as a 'Sorcerer'._

 _2.) Chagatai appearing to use his hands to activate his Mystic Eyes. I'm well aware that no such input is required to activate Mystic Eyes that aren't continuously active; this is literally just Chagatai showboating like the fabulous little murderous drama queen he is._

 _3.) Saber not appearing right off the bat even though Renzoku finished his chant. Mostly me cheating to create tension, but if you aren't satisfied by my masterful use of narrative devices then I could point you to the ritual at the beginning of F/Z, where Kiritsugu says something along the lines of "It's the Grail that does the actual summoning, I just anchor it to the world and provide it with enough mana to take physical form." In this instance, Renzoku had done the former and anchored Saber to the world, but he was interrupted by Matahachi's rugby tackle before he could complete the mana transfer._

 _If you have any other questions, I'm happy to answer them (as long as it doesn't involve spoiling the story) if you PM me. As always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks for reading!_

 _~Bass_


	3. Status Screen (Prologue 2)

**Summary of Master/Servant information as of Prologue (2)**

* * *

 **Servants:**

* * *

 **Saber  
**

* * *

 **True Name:** ?

* * *

 **Master:** Tohsaka Renzoku (18), ninth generation head of the Tohsaka family.

* * *

 **Statistics:  
**

* * *

 **Strength: B**

 **Mana: C**

 **Endurance: B**

 **Luck: C**

 **Agility: A**

 **Noble Phantasm: ?  
**

* * *

 **Class Skills:  
**

* * *

Battle Continuation Rank C

Magic Resistance Rank A

* * *

 **Personal Skills:  
**

* * *

UNKNOWN Rank B: Saber's years studying martial arts have enabled him to read an opponent's moves flawlessly, by weighing up and eliminating their options. Makes other fighters seem clumsy.

* * *

 **Archer  
**

* * *

 **True Name: ?  
**

* * *

 **Master:** Otori Chagatai, an enigmatic and powerful Magus.

* * *

 **Statistics:  
**

* * *

 **Strength: C**

 **Mana: C+**

 **Endurance: D**

 **Luck: C**

 **Agility: A**

 **Noble Phantasm: ?  
**

* * *

 **Class Skills:  
**

* * *

Magic Resistance Rank D

Independent Action Rank A

* * *

 **Personal Skills:  
**

* * *

Trueshot Rank A: As long as he has enough time to focus, Archer will, with absolute certainty, hit his target within a range of 30 meters.


	4. Chapter 1: It Means 'Shadow'

Chapter 1 – **ASSASSIN**

Before every cleansing, I would take a long look at myself in the mirror. I was once told: "On the day you can no longer face your own reflection, you will know you are a failure." _I guess this makes me a routine success story, then_. To anyone else, it would have seemed a simple thing to glance at one's own face in the mirror. But this face, with its corpse-like pallor and baggy eyes of burnished gold, became harder to examine by the day. Such was the struggle of one who killed for the greater good. Sighing heavily, I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to ignore the faint smell of mildew in the bathroom. Blackish and growing just a little too long, small tufts were sticking out of my head that had been disturbed in my sleep. _I look a mess, overall_. Tearing my gaze from the shambles of a man that had been staring back, I raised my hands to my face.  
" _No foe may know me, no friend embrace me. Charlatan's Act: Indistinction."_

I looked again into the mirror, and a million faces looked back. Were my eyes blue, or grey? My hair, black or brown? Was that a scar? Under the influence of Indistinction, my face looked as if it never quite caught the light correctly. Beneath the layers of deception that covered me, I knew it was a sad face that gazed upon itself. I turned away from the mirror and ambled back into the bedroom of my tiny apartment. The faint odour of rot ambled in with me. Upon the low, rickety bed, used more as a shelf than a sleeping space, lay everything I needed for the night's work. I reached for a knife that sat close to me. Its balance was perfect for throwing; a deft flick of the wrist and I could be sure it would strike exactly where I meant it to. I sighed again. _Flick of the wrist, huh_. I ran a hand along my right forearm, which shimmered in response to my touch. A complex network of thick lines and deft curves, all sky blue, none of them mine. Closing my eyes and pressing my fingers into the greatest falsehood of my existence, I heard an invisible clock ticking. Within me it lay, a constant reminder of inevitability, mortality, the innate finiteness of all things.

The ticking faded as I opened my eyes once more. It took a moment to register that I still held the knife, and its blade was set deep into my wrist along with my fingers. A warm trickle down my hand. A rush of endorphins. Shuddering, I withdrew the blade and set it back on the bed. _Enough, for now_. Allowing the blood to flow from my arm, I pulled a black vest over my head. Between the two layers of clothing fibres, I knew there lay thin strips of graphene: only a molecule thick, the transparent material was impossibly strong. The man who'd given it to me claimed it would take an elephant balanced atop a pencil to penetrate the strips inside my vest. _It'll do for bullets, I suppose_. The vest was followed by a black long-sleeved t-shirt and an overcoat that reached to just above my knees. After these came two discreet holsters. Checking my revolver, a Nagant M1895, and my pistol, a Calico M950, with near-robotic precision and efficiency, I slid them into place at my waist and across my back, respectively. Finally, I sheathed a knife into each of my coat sleeves; the bloody knife lay cold against the wrist I had gashed with it. _Time to go to work_.

Slinging a courier bag across my shoulders, I swept out of my apartment. The lady at the reception desk, nondescript brown curls swaying as she dozed off, barely registered my passing. I ignored the throbbing in my wrist as I practically ghosted out into the street. A sign above me proclaimed "THE HEART OF SHINTO HOTEL" in harsh neon katakana that flared loudly against the night, just beginning to flicker from disrepair. At least the room was cheap. Sticking to what shadows as there were on the lamplit streets, I kept my head fixed firmly down and left my legs on autopilot. I knew the way there better than most people knew the backs of their hands. I glanced down at my own hand, where a twisted claw sat melded to my skin in deep red, glowing like the weakest of flames. Not for the first time, I felt a presence shadowing my path through the city; some kind of apparition that appeared transfixed by the dealings of an assassin. My weapons suddenly felt heavier inside my coat.

" _Why do you go where you go?"_ as if it knew I'd detected its presence, its voice scratched at my mind like a faint rattle. I felt goosebumps rise on my neck as the question shuddered through my head.

"We all do what we must. Why do you follow me?" I kept my voice to a whisper; if a passer-by had heard me, there could have been awkward questions.

" _I honour the Summons. We all do as we must,_ " the rattle mimicked, " _But you reek of conflict. I wonder if you even know your purpose._ " Something like anger slid over the edge of my mind. A man in a cheap suit quickened his stride as he passed, as if sensing my thoughts.

"I follow orders," my whisper rose to a growl, "Precious little exists to separate me from that salaryman."

" _Besides the magic and the murder. And the tie; I doubt you'd make much of an impression as a dealer of death if – were those little ducks? - adorned your chest._ " I cracked a smile at that. What more could a man want than an invisible telepathic stalker who made jokes?

* * *

About ten minutes blurred past before I reached my destination. Standing thirteen stories high, the apartment complex didn't seem hugely imposing when compared to the glass-and-steel colossi that dominated Shinto's skyline, but even with my limited knowledge of magic, I could sense that the top floor practically pulsed with power. A first-rate Magus could likely detect each and every enchantment on the entire building, but I'd had to resort to scanning with Familiars, which had ended about as well as a snowball's foray into hell. All I knew, besides any data I'd collected before, was that some kind of autonomous defence covered the entire twelfth floor, as well as various detection Runes, fireball traps and enchantments on doors that directed one to other worlds entirely. All of these were placed in plain view, practically radiating the stinking arrogance of a higher-up from the Clock Tower. It ruffled me somewhat that I'd had to waste so many Familiars probing the building's defences, but there it was. Pulling my coat close around me to ward off the cold night air, I started toward the doors with silent steps, the now-silent apparition mirroring my movements unseen. Slipping through the doors to the lobby, I let Indistinction settle on one face. _I belong here_. Adjusting my stride to match the confidence of my thoughts, I approached the welcome desk with a broad charlatan's smile. It was carved from something expensive – mahogany? - and a sleek-looking computer hummed gently, nestled on the desk's corner at an angle. Warm yellow light enveloped the wood-panelled walls, and me with them. The man on the reception counter, another nobody in a cheap suit with dull eyes, perked up at my presence, greeting me with a grin that was somehow even faker than my own. _Maybe I should ask him for lessons_.

"Welcome back, Miyagi-san! It's certainly odd to see you without Yukako-san; is she well?" He clearly knew this face; I would have to watch my words.

"Good evening," - I glanced at his name-tag - "Joshu. Yukako is in Osaka, visiting some friends. May I have my spare key? I'm afraid she's got the other one with her, and I wasn't expecting to be coming out to Fuyuki today." The slightest hint of a frown crossed his face before he reached into a drawer with another false smile.

"Of course, sir! Will your bag need taking?" He pushed a small brass key across the desk. I stuffed it in my coat pocket as he made note of my arrival on the computer.

"As soon as possible, if you don't mind," I replied with exaggerated gratitude as I began to step away, "And I'll need housekeeping to come by early tomorrow. Can they manage nine?"

"Of course. That's the way to the bar, sir," he pointed out, wearing an openly puzzled look. I did my best not to express my nervousness. "What happened to sobriety?"

I threw him a smirk. "Wildly overrated." Slinging my bag onto the desk, I disappeared down the corridor. _The bar, indeed_. As much as I could have used a stiff drink, my destination was elsewhere. If the floor plans my Familiars had allowed me to sketch out were accurate, three doors down should have been... _there_! A small work of thaumaturgy dealt with the lock on the door, and with a brief check of the corridor – clear – I heaved it open. Whitish work lights replaced the warm, yellowish glow of the lobby and hallway, and a noisy fan broke what had been a pleasant silence. Even the apparition shadowing me seemed startled at the contrast of setting.

Spirits notwithstanding, I knew that I was alone. Even so, I hurried through to the other side of the room, where a large circuit breaker box, conveniently labelled "LIGHTS", took up a large portion of the wall. One more broken lock later, I was staring at a complex network of wiring and switches. Scanning hurriedly through the hundreds of labels, I found the switch I sought. I breathed an incantation, and traced a ring around the cable that emerged from under the switch with my finger. A tiny ripple appeared in the air where I had drawn: in actuality, a minuscule blade of Wind now surrounded the cable. Leaving it intact for now, I repeated this process with several more switches, before slamming the box shut and hurrying from the room. If anyone returned, only an electrical engineer who moonlighted as a master Magus would detect anything amiss. My bag would have made it to the room by now. I crossed back through the lobby with a slight nod at the receptionist, and made a beeline for the bank of elevators on the western wall. As I approached, one of them opened with a faint ring, and yet another suit stepped out, slightly more expensive this time. My eyes met his briefly, my ears registering a faint mutter of "Evening, Mitaka," before I was inside and being whisked upwards.

The eleventh floor hallway was empty when I emerged. Even so, I emulated Miyagi Mitaka's cool grace as I produced someone else's key – 1105 – and vanished into someone else's apartment. Whoever took my bag had left the lights on, and I twitched with the urge to hang up my coat as I was bathed in a homely glow. I cast my eyes about the place. Miyagi clearly came from old money, or was some sort of nouveau-riche traditionalist, as his furnishings showed. Even the shoerack – empty – was carved oak, and crystal wine pitchers – empty – sat on every end table. Padding across the charcoal-coloured flagstones, I noticed that my bag broke the look of the room noticeably as it rested on the coffee table; plain black canvas against worked and polished glass framed in silver. I scanned the enchantment on its zip, thankfully undisturbed, and opened it up. Hidden amongst assorted clothes and toiletries, a small red light blinked up at me. _I'll be disappointed if this is all it takes, my Lord_. I left the bag open where it lay, and started for the bedroom. A great bay window, draped with velvet-trimmed curtains, dominated the eastern wall, providing a bird's-eye view of Shinto. Millions of minute lights spread out into the distance, as if trying to replace the stars they blotted out so mercilessly. _Poetic sentiment. I must be getting soft_. Chuckling softly to myself, I pulled my Calico from its holster. A flurry of silenced _pop_ s heralded the window shattering, tiny glittering shards tumbling away into the streets below. A rush of cold wind enveloped me.

" _Charlatan's Act: Indistinction._ " With the invocation spoken once more, I was no longer Miyagi Mitaka. Now, I was anyone and everyone. Leaning out of what was now a gaping hole in the wall, I glanced either side of me, coat flapping in the gale that now blew about the room. Sitting just a couple of metres left of the window was a railed staircase: the fire escape. I allowed myself a few steps for a run-up, taking a deep breath. Sprinting to the window and leaping with all my might, I sailed across a nauseatingly long drop, not exhaling until my arms clamped themselves securely to the rail. Vaulting smoothly onto the stairs, I began racing upward, the steel steps marking my passing with a faint metallic ring. No ringing followed my stalker, but sure as the sunrise, he still mimicked my every move.

My ears popped as I approached the next landing on the staircase. A few steps ahead was a heavy metal door: the twelfth floor fire escape. Its wards were still obvious to me, though I knew them to be less deadly than their counterparts elsewhere; these would only alert the resident to my presence, not incinerate me or plant me firmly in another dimension. Once again I felt that scratching at my mind as the spirit spoke up.

" _What was the use of taking the fire escape stairs if you're going to be detected anyway?_ " I pulled my Nagant from its side holster, and from one of my coat pockets, a tiny device blinking with the same red light as my luggage.

"The man living here has every entrance covered, Stalker-san. This one is unique; if he's not receiving visitors, every other door would burn me to death the moment I touched the handle." For emphasis, I released the fire escape's latch with a small flow of Wind and pulled it ajar. A painting in the corridor that opened out before us swung slightly in the wind that now rushed in.

" _Left!_ " my eyes darted to look as the warning rattled sharply through me. A split-second later, the wall burst open. Throwing myself to the side, I felt a rush of air as something metallic shot across the hall where I'd been standing an instant ago. I rolled back to my feet as it curved on its path to throw itself at me again. Preparing to dodge its next attack, I finally managed to catch a glimpse of what assaulted me. Writhing like a living thing, the giant tentacle of – _molten metal?_ \- lunged for my chest. I sprang back into evasive action, feinting left before leaping back to the right. The _thing_ cast about for a moment, as if seeking me out again. I broke into a run as another tendril smashed through the wall, alarmingly close to where I'd been standing. Any skill I had for detecting magic was useless now – dangerous enchantments were all around me, and any one of them could attack at any moment. Another warning from Stalker-san, and I ducked yet another metallic appendage hunting my blood. Whirling back, I blasted it with the Nagant. The magnum round barely dented the snake-like monstrosity, and it hardly even flinched before lunging after me again.

The door I was looking for seemed miles away as I rushed madly along the corridor, ducking blasts from fire traps and weaving between the tentacles of whatever metallic beast was guarding the floor. After more near misses than I cared to count, I reached it; a plain white door with '1205' engraved on a mounted silver plaque. I stepped back, raising my revolver again. One loud blast, and the door fell open with a hard kick. I practically threw myself through, and back into the corridor. _What?_ Everything was the same: the destroyed patches of wall where flame and metal had hunted me, the door, the plaque. In the doorway opposite me stood a man in a black trenchcoat, around my height. I couldn't quite make out his features from where I stood, but...

 _Wait_.

I turned to look behind me, and there in the doorway opposite stood another man in a trenchcoat, his features indistinguishable. He was looking behind him. At his back stood a line of identical figures that seemed to stretch infinitely into the distance. Swallowing hard, I stepped back through the door, watching myself do it a million times over. The image remained in my head even after I slammed the door. I ran along to the next doorway. The plaque read '1205'. I didn't need to carry on to know the rest would read the same. _This is nothing like what my Familiars saw. What the hell's going on?_ A quiet creak alerted me to movement, back towards the fire escape. I turned, gun raised, and watched as a tall man in a white silk shirt walked out of the doorway where reality had just bent for me. A huge tendril of that strange liquid metal slid along the floor by his feet like some monstrous pet snake. The Magus turned on his heel and faced me, his grey gaze meeting my million stares. A stray lock of jaw-length black hair fell in front of his eyes, and he brushed it aside in irritation. I pulled back the hammer of my Nagant with a _click_.  
"Room service," I quipped, "For a Lord Isaac Velvet, El-Melloi the Fourth."

"It's about time," he acknowledged me with a wolfish grin, "Did that idiot chef remember to pit my olives?" Lord El-Melloi IV spoke in a British accent, rich enough to melt butter. The smile disappeared, and the metallic snake poised itself like a cobra. "I don't care who paid you, in case you were getting ready to valiantly defend their anonymity. I just hope they paid you in advance," his gaze drifted over my ever-changing features, "Faceless Magus Killer. What is it they call you again?"

"Kage," I replied in a voice like ice. "It means 'Shadow'."

I felt the guillotines of Wind I'd left in the breaker room snap shut, and the lights died immediately. El-Melloi let out a cry of alarm, and I heard his serpent thrashing about, demolishing the space where I'd been stood. Allowing myself a triumphant smile, I pushed the smaller button on the tiny device I'd palmed earlier. With a click, the world became black and white; an infrared filter had just slid over my contact lenses. Sure enough, Isaac Velvet was pressed against the wall, his face a mask of terror. _I guess I'll give him something to worry about._ The device in my hand still blinked red at me. I pressed the larger button twice in quick succession, and immediately braced myself against the far wall. The building lurched below my feet, accompanied by a faint rumble in my ears that immediately exploded into a deafening roar as a fireball consumed the floor below Isaac Velvet. The serpent reacted blindingly fast: before I could even register its motion, it had formed a tight sphere around its master, guarding him against the destruction being wrought by the plastic explosive I'd planted in Miyagi Mitaka's room on the floor below. The ball carried him over the hole in the floor before depositing him safely on more stable ground. _Autonomous defence exclusive to those of the El-Melloi lineage. This must be Volumen Hydrargyrum_. I raised my magnum once more and fanned the hammer, emptying its magazine straight at Isaac's head. The serpent didn't flinch. I didn't even have time to register surprise before all my bullets were cut out of the air by a blur, faster than even Volumen Hydrargyrum could respond. A ball of light appeared in Isaac's hand, and its harsh glare led me to disable my infrared filter with a dull _click_. Blinking to readjust to the visible light spectrum, I finally got a look at the defence that had wiped my Nagant's rounds from the air.

Resplendent in shining white plate armour and a swirling cloak of the very deepest red, the knight confronted me. That conclusion – that he was a knight - had no basis in what I'd seen, but there was no doubt about it: the man standing before me was the very image of deadliness and chivalry, mixed up in a regal glow. Raising a gleaming broadsword in a mailed fist to aim its point at my heart, the newcomer met my eyes with his, a pair of glittering sapphires set in a chiselled face framed by straight, dirty-blonde hair that fell to his shoulders. He was impossibly tall, enough to be staring down at me as if from a throne. When he spoke, his voice was like a thunderhead; it was all I could do to stop myself falling to my knees.

"Begone from this place, Faceless one," the thunder brought with it a rain of swords; behind the glowing knight was a viper, ready to cut me down. "None may harm my Master and live."

"Enough theatrics, Rider," Even Isaac's rich tones sounded like the whining of a petulant child, next to this 'Rider'. "Just cut him down and be done with it." The knight acknowledged the order with a grim nod, and brandished his blade once more. _I'm going to die_. Fear wrapped its icy fingers around my throat, and I desperately grasped for an idea as the swordsman closed in. Dancing backwards with all the outward certainty I could muster, I rolled my right sleeve up. My Crest, my lie, glowed as if in readiness for what was to come. Even with death bearing down on me, I made note of the clotted blood marring the blue of the pattern. The clock ticked loudly in my mind once more. I glanced back up, and immediately wished I hadn't; Rider calmly advanced, and I noted with dread that I was within range of his blade. Swallowing hard, I readied myself for someone else's magic.

" _Time Alter,_ " I whispered hoarsely, " _Double Accel_!"

The clock grew faster, and my liar's heart immediately threatened to burst out of my chest. Seizing the burst of speed, I slipped under Rider's blade – barely – and dashed down the hall, flipping a knife out of my sleeve as I seized Isaac Velvet by the hair. Pressing it up against his throat, I whirled to face Rider. The knight froze; his face was still set in grim concentration, but at least he wasn't swinging that sword any time soon. Isaac shouted and whimpered incoherently as I silently pressed the blade closer to his throat. A tiny drop of blood ran along its edge, and he was silent. _Great. Now what do I do?_ It was only a matter of time before the knight found a way to separate us, and now I'd drawn the blood of his 'Master', I'd be killed for sure.

" _Do you need assistance?_ " The rasping voice of Stalker-san clawed at my mind as if in response to my doubts.

"I'm not sure what you can do, Stalker-san, but go right ahead." Not even an instant passed before a whirlwind of black formed between Rider and I. Even after it settled, the figure that appeared still seemed to gather the shadows to himself; Isaac's orb of light grew visibly dimmer. The figure, cloaked all in sable, drew a pair of knives and stared down the knight.

" _Not Stalker-san, Master,_ " the voice had lost its rasp; instead I was met with a husky whisper that dripped with death. " _Servant Assassin answers the call_."

* * *

 _Author's Notes:_

 _Hey, guys! It's been a while! Unfortunately I can't write as frequently as I'd like to (I've been busy with university applications and mock exams, forgive me). Hope you like this chapter, especially with a new perspective after the prologue from Renzoku. What do you think of Kage? How about the two new Servants? Please leave a review and let me know._

~Bass


	5. Status Screen (Chapter 1)

**Summary of Master/Servant information as of Chapter 1**

* * *

 **Servants:**

* * *

 **Saber**

* * *

 **True Name:**?

* * *

 **Master:** Tohsaka Renzoku, ninth generation head of the Tohsaka family.

* * *

 **Statistics:  
**

* * *

 **Strength: B**

 **Mana: C**

 **Endurance: B**

 **Luck: C**

 **Agility: A**

 **Noble Phantasm: ?  
**

* * *

 **Class Skills:  
**

* * *

Battle Continuation Rank C

Magic Resistance Rank A

* * *

 **Personal Skills:  
**

* * *

UNKNOWN Rank B: Saber's years studying martial arts have enabled him to read an opponent's moves flawlessly, by weighing up and eliminating their options. Makes other fighters seem clumsy.

* * *

 **Archer  
**

* * *

 **True Name: ?  
**

* * *

 **Master:** Otori Chagatai, an enigmatic and powerful Magus.

* * *

 **Statistics:  
**

* * *

 **Strength: C**

 **Mana: C+**

 **Endurance: D**

 **Luck: C**

 **Agility: A**

 **Noble Phantasm: ?  
**

* * *

 **Class Skills:  
**

* * *

Magic Resistance Rank D

Independent Action Rank A

* * *

 **Personal Skills:  
**

* * *

Trueshot Rank A: As long as he has enough time to focus, Archer will, with absolute certainty, hit his target within a range of 30 meters.

* * *

 **Rider**

* * *

 **True Name:**?

* * *

 **Master:** Isaac Velvet, Lord El-Melloi IV. A prestigious Magus from the Clock Tower.

* * *

 **Statistics:**

* * *

 **Strength:** **B**

 **Mana: C**

 **Endurance: A**

 **Luck: A+**

 **Agility: D**

 **Noble Phantasm: ?**

* * *

 **Class Skills:**

* * *

Magic Resistance Rank C

Riding Rank A

* * *

 **Personal Skills:**

* * *

Charisma Rank A: This Servant can lead armies and nations with equal ease.

* * *

 **Assassin**

* * *

 **True Name:** ?

* * *

 **Master:** Kage, a mysterious magical gun-for-hire. Known as the Faceless Magus Killer.

* * *

 **Statistics:**

* * *

 **Strength: E**

 **Mana: D+**

 **Endurance: D++**

 **Luck: B**

 **Agility: C-EX**

 **Noble Phantasm: ?**

* * *

 **Class Skills:**

* * *

Presence Concealment Rank A

* * *

 **Personal Skills:**

* * *

 **UNKNOWN**


	6. Chapter 2: The King and the Wild Man

**Chapter 2 – ASSASSIN**

* * *

Isaac Velvet stiffened visibly against the knife I held coldly to his throat. Volumen Hydrargyrum, his autonomous defensive magic, circled me as if it had taken on its master's anxiety. Barely fifteen feet down the hall, a duel beyond my comprehension was taking place. A whirlwind of shadows danced around a shining knight, each striking at the other quicker than my eyes could comprehend. Only a chorus of metallic rings and flying sparks informed me they were fighting at all.

"So you're a Master." The man whose hair I gripped tightly in my left hand finally broke his silence. I pulled the knife away from his throat by a hand's breadth, to allow him to speak. He swallowed gratefully, a lump briefly appearing where steel would have grazed it a moment ago. "I had you down for a pettier adversary. Say, call off your Servant. If you're here to battle of your own accord, perhaps you can provide me with answers." _What does he think I am? Perhaps I ought to play along, but I can't let him regain control of the situation._ My employers wouldn't be happy, but I could always kill him later.

"I would call him off as you ask, but I feel awfully nervous with your little blob circling us like that. You know what to do."

Velvet's face visibly fell – he must have been planning something – but with a reluctant " _Recedite_ ," all the serpent's metallic tendrils slid back into its central mass and it glided away to sit a few meters down the hall. I noticed with irritation that I was still in its effective range, but with Innate Time Control at my disposal I'd at least have a chance to react if Isaac tried anything. He glanced up at me expectantly. I shook my head.

"You first. I'm holding the cards here, my Lord." His face twisted in anger, and he looked as if he were about to speak up. Another brush of steel against his throat smothered any rebellious words that may have crossed his mind.

"Rider, stand down!" The order came through gritted teeth, and Rider followed up immediately. Catching Assassin's knives on his glittering broadsword one last time, the knight withdrew to the opposite end of the wide hallway. Assassin cast his gaze over to me, his face obscured by a grey mask. _He must be awaiting orders._

"To me, Stalker-san," I called, and the apparition appeared to glide as it settled behind me, never making a sound. "We may as well answer Lord El-Melloi's little questionnaire." I traced another guillotine of Wind around his throat with the index finger of my knife hand, to remind him I was still in control. Slowly, deliberately, I released his hair before withdrawing the blade. Isaac walked over to Rider, rubbing his throat and making a visible effort not to seem in a hurry. The knight immediately stepped between us, planting his blade in the floor and fixing Stalker-san with a level stare. Was that a look of respect? That was natural, I supposed, for adversaries who'd faced each other with such blinding techniques and come out unscathed. Shielded by the knight, Isaac opened the door that he'd emerged from only moments before, glancing warily at the gaping hole in the floor before sidestepping gingerly around it. I took care to let Rider through before following with Stalker-san gliding silently behind.

I allowed myself to be led into a luxurious living space, or what once had been: empty food packets and soda cans littered the floor, and amongst shiny leather sofas and soft carpets were untidy stacks of paperwork and scattered magical trinkets. Despite his status as a Lord, it didn't seem that Isaac was particularly house-proud. The air smelled of vanilla. If I hadn't cut the electricity, the apartment would have been homely; the only light came from a melon-sized orb in Lord El-Melloi's hand, harsh and white, and with Assassin behind me the shadows seemed to press at even that small glow. Isaac took a seat, gesturing for me to do the same, but I made a point of standing. Rider stood rigidly to attention behind his 'Master', unblinking and unmoving. He might have been carved from stone.

"Now that we've dispensed with the _pleasantries_ ," Isaac began, glancing at the sleeve where my knife lay, "Perhaps you can put off killing me long enough to let me ask a few questions. Do you consent?"

"Depends on the questions," I replied, more gruff than I'd meant to be.

"I'll get straight to the point, then. How is this Grail War even possible?" I arched an eyebrow, suddenly glad that Indistinction hid my confusion. Grail War? What on earth was that? I emerged from my confusion to find Isaac still talking.

"...was supposedly dismantled by El-Melloi the Second and Rin Tohsaka at the end of the Fifth War, which, putting aside the fact that we're twenty years late in the cycle, means there shouldn't be any Greater Grail to use in the first place! _And_ there aren't many Magi left alive with the..." For a moment I thought I could feel a migraine coming on.

"Isaac," I cut him off, and he gave me a sharp look. "I'm sorry, but what the hell are you talking about?" He studied my faces for a moment, with a curious expression, eyebrows arched. After a few seconds, he gave a little start.

"Oh, my God. You're actually _serious_ , aren't you?" His voice was laden with condescending disbelief, as if we were at a writing seminar and I'd just asked him how to sign my own name. He sighed, knuckling his forehead. "Where on Earth do I even begin...? I suppose I'll have to go back to origins of the ritual." He sighed again. "About three hundred years ago..."

* * *

What felt like days later, Velvet finally finished explaining the Grail War system and my role as a Master. I could see the problems now, too: with the Greater Grail dismantled by his grandfather Waver over eighty years ago, the current ritual, in which we were both Masters, should not have been taking place at all. In addition, I had never taken part in any summoning ritual, so it made no sense for Assassin to be present and talking about 'the Summons' or any 'contract'. When asked, he insisted that I'd brought him forth. The migraine I'd felt coming on earlier had now come into full swing, and I resisted the urge to massage my temples. This was, without a doubt, the worst job I'd ever taken. My employers had described Velvet as a rogue with plans to expose magic to the public in Fuyuki, which in accordance with Association rules qualified him for a Sealing Designation. My role had been to terminate him and salvage the Velvet Magic Crest for an Association payout, but everything I saw contradicted this: he'd made visible efforts to keep our battle concealed from prying mundane eyes, and none of the building's staff had come to investigate the explosion or gunfire – I assumed due to some form of compulsion magecraft or psychic influence. Everything I saw of the man contradicted what I'd been told, and his story of Grail Wars and Servants was too intricate to be a lie; after all, if he was spinning a story to trick me, where had Assassin and Rider come from, and why were they so powerful?

"There remains the problem of my job," I finally said. He froze like a deer in headlights, and Rider immediately took his blade up, glaring blue daggers at me. "Relax," I added quickly – a blade in the ribs wouldn't help my situation in the slightest - "I need to talk to my contractors. I can't kill someone if my reasons aren't valid." I paused. "...Collateral damage notwithstanding, of course." Isaac frowned.

"So you're not going to kill me, knowing what you do?"

"No. It won't help anyone if I blindly commit murder when I'm in the middle of something I don't understand." The frown vanished.

"There's more to you than I'd first thought, Kage. Colour me impressed." I couldn't help but feel patronised. Nodding to Assassin, I peeled off the wall I'd been leaning against and turned to leave. He stopped me with a raised hand.

"One more thing, Master of Assassin. I don't know if you're looking for allies, but do you think we could at least cooperate until we figure out what's going on?"

I stopped to consider his proposal. An ally might be useful, if the other Masters and Servants were as dangerous as he'd made them out to be. I deferred to Assassin.

"What do you think, Stalker-san? Another Master on our side could be a big help." a shadow-veiled hand reached up to scratch Assassin's masked chin in consideration.

" _We would have one less knife against our throats, to be sure,_ " he began, then lowered his hand from his face and curled it into a fist. " _But we'd have to be doubly cautious that the same knife isn't slid between our shoulder blades when our guard is lowered._ " I nodded, scratching at the stubble that lay beneath the fog of Indistinction.

I turned back to Isaac. "Very well," I said, "Consider it a non-aggression pact. We'll find you here if we learn anything new. Don't follow me home."

"Kage," Isaac's voice sounded tense.

"What is it?"

He pointed at the shimmering blade of Wind I'd left around his neck.

"Oh. Right." With a small work of magecraft, I unpicked the weaving of Wind and the guillotine disappeared. Pulling my coat closer around me, I swept out of the room into a world fundamentally different from the one I'd just left.

* * *

 _ **Interlude: Blade of the Angels**_

* * *

 **Rider watched impassively as Assassin and its Master departed. He suppressed a disapproving sniff. For all their willingness to listen to his Master and the agreement of non-aggression they'd just formed, both Servant and Master were still drenched in shadow and death. This aura of murder was all too familiar to him, a veteran of battle and intrigue alike, but it was not the reek of death itself that disturbed him. Assassin, a Servant that held a place in the Throne of Heroes for its penchant for murder, barely held a candle to the torrent of murderous intent that came from its Master. No, it was something else – the Silent Killer of Servants permeated regret, a sorrowful song for Rider's eyes only. He wondered how the Servant's life had ended. Shaking the thought from his head, he returned his attention to Isaac. The boy knelt outside the door, muttering an incantation. No sooner had he finished than the chunks of floor that Kage had vaporised and blown apart came floating back together, patching the treacherous gap in the floor. With a sigh, his Master stood and immediately made a beeline for a crystal carafe on the opposite side of the living room, filled to the brim with what Rider could only assume was astronomically expensive red wine. Rider couldn't help but arch an eyebrow; his Master had a tendency to drain bottles when he got too stressed.**

" **What?" Isaac snapped at his inquisitive stare. Rider remained silent; his place was to protect Isaac, and to defeat his enemies. That being said, he could not very well protect Isaac from stumbling and cracking his skull in a drunken stupor. His Master was persistent, though. "Speak your mind, Rider."**

" **Well, Lord El-Melloi, it is my opinion that perhaps it may be best to leave some time before becoming... inebriated... so soon after our defences were just circumvented, in case another Master caught wind of the skirmish here and has decided to investigate." His Master's mouth twisted, caught somewhere on the way to a reply.**

" **Rider, we'd need some unbelievably awful luck to be attacked by two Masters on the same ni-" He stopped short and jerked upright, his eyes popping as the carafe in his hand crashed back onto the table and shattered. It took him a moment to regain composure, as blood-red wine dripped off the table and created a fast-spreading stain on the carpet.**

" **Master?"**

" **Get out in the hallway, _now_. Someone's broken the defence by the elevator, and I still haven't repositioned Volumen Hydrargyrum since that faceless moron broke in here. You'll feel them in a moment." No sooner had his Master finished than Rider felt a powerful presence rising up towards them. Another Servant, for certain. Rider's cloak stirred as he hurried out into the hall, and strands of Volumen Hydrargyrum webbed across the walls as he advanced towards the elevator. Out of nowhere he was bathed in warm light as the electric bulbs came back on; someone downstairs must have repaired Kage's damage.**

 **Isaac joined him moments later, sleeve drawn up to his elbow and a curse at the ready. Rider hardly noticed; before any battle, his mind entered a sort of void that isolated him from external sensation, all while heightening his senses. He could barely feel the anxiety sliding over the edge of his consciousness, but he could make out the small print next to the fire escape at the other end of the hall. The elevator doors cracked open. Inside two large men lounged, as relaxed as if they'd just walked into their own home, rather than the fortress of their enemy. They were as different as the earth and sky: the larger of the two, the Servant as far as Rider could tell, was a dark-skinned man with golden eyes that glowed wisely, and a mane of black hair that fell past his shoulders. He was dressed in riding leathers, finely crafted yet telling of an old Servant, indeed. Next to him stood a man that nearly made Rider flinch at the sight of him; piercing red eyes belied a man who was entirely white, from his skin to his hair to the wolfish teeth that grinned savagely at Isaac. He was uncertain which was the more dangerous. It did not surprise him that the Master spoke up first.**

" **Room service," he crooned in a voice like molten gold, "For a Lord Isaac Velvet, El-Melloi the Fourth." Rider's Master flashed a smile back at the intruder.**

" **Believe it or not, I've already heard that one tonight." The red-eyed one appeared to suppress a moment of anger. _Is making an entrance_ that _important to him?_ **

" **I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Kage and I must share a sense of humour! Our union is fated, for certain."**

 **Isaac was visibly shocked. "You know him?!" Those red eyes glittered in satisfaction.**

" **Not in the way you do. You talked him into a partnership, yes?" Rider had a feeling that Isaac's silence said all that the stranger wanted to hear. "Believe it or not, that is why I grace your doorstep with my presence this night."**

 **Isaac's mouth worked in frustration as the snow-white man continued. "I have a... special interest in the man. And you will stay _away_ from him, or otherwise incur my wrath." **

**Isaac finally snapped. "Well, you've already incurred mine! Rider, dispose of these intruders at once!" Rider had his sword bared and had started forward in a heartbeat. The dark-skinned warrior came forth to meet him, drawing a plain longsword of black steel. Another heartbeat, and they met, blades clashing. Rider's eyes darted to the other swordsman's weapon, scanning for anything that might hint at his identity. A white wolf's head formed the pommel, but the Servant pulled back for another strike before he could study it further.**

" **Don't let up, Rider. Drive them back!" Isaac's shouts barely reached him through the void. Allowing himself to use a slightly greater fraction of his strength, Rider hammered the flat of his opponent's sword away with a lobstered steel gauntlet and thrust at his chest. The wolfish man dropped and rolled back just before it connected. Rider bull-rushed in for a swing at his head, but the other man was in a low stance and blocking his strike in the nick of time. Rider realised that mere seconds had passed since Isaac gave the order.**

" **Good work, Rider. Strike him down!" For all Isaac's cheering, the red-eyed Master didn't seem fazed by Rider's advance.**

" **Oh, Isaac, must you be so formal with your Servant? Call the man by his name!" Rider froze. Had he figured it out? "Rider, any idiot could recognise that blade. The gold working, the gleaming blade! It truly is Peerless. What luck, to see Durandal in the flesh."**

 ** _He knows._ "The symbol of the Heroic Spirit Roland. That is your name, is it not?" Rider made his best effort to keep his face level. The Master laughed, an even mix of mirth and cruelty.**

" **No, I think not. Roland was said to be a scoundrel and a pervert, but you are of a more noble bearing, it seems. The one who bequeathed the blade on Roland, then? That would be-"**

" ** _Shut up!_ " Isaac's frustration seemed to have boiled over. "Shut up _right now!_ "**

" ** _The one who bequeathed the blade on Roland_ ," somehow the intruder silenced Rider's Master with a simple raising of his voice. "That would be the Holy Roman Emperor, the Father of Europe. You have summoned Charlemagne." Isaac's mouth worked, trying to find some verbal counterstroke. He was failing.**

" **Petty Master." All eyes snapped back to Rider as he spoke. "I would have made a better effort to disguise myself, had I anything to fear. You know me, thus you know the power I wield." He cast his eyes back over his enemies. Only the Servant seemed fazed. "And if you know Durandal by sight, then I don't need to hold back its power any more." He pressed the blade's end to his lips. A powerful wind whipped up around him, escalating to a roar in his ears.**

" ** _Awaken, Blade of the Angels. With peerless strength, show the sinners their folly._**

 _ **Reduce them to cinders! DURANDAL!"**_

 **Taking the blade in both hands, Rider swung it with all his might. The roar of the wind was overcome tenfold by the roar of the blade awakening. Beneath the sound, behind the white light that enveloped the hallway, the enemy Servant roared in anguished desperation.**

" ** _LOROTHI ANKARIS VOLURNA!_ " the white flood of Durandal was met by a torrent of blue as the Noble Phantasms met. Rider was dimly aware of the walls and ceiling being ripped apart, exposing what was left of the hallway to the elements. Looking through the light, Rider could barely make out the Servant, standing against Durandal with a bow in hand. _Servant Archer, then._ Barely three yards from Durandal's blade was a vast arrow wreathed in a blue glow, the source of the power that wrestled with his. _A bow that can match the Peerless Sword... who is this Servant?_ Rider reaffirmed his grip on the blade to stop himself wavering. The sword had been active for several seconds already, and his mana reserves had already dropped by a third. He steeled himself. If he gave so much as an inch of ground, then he would have failed. Rider would not back down. Adding his own shout to the din of his blade, Charlemagne channelled even more mana through it. Startled by the redoubling of his power, Archer immediately spoke his bow's name again, firing another arrow to break through the tsunami of power being thrown at him. Neither of them could have had long, but an age seemed to pass before Archer visibly wavered, and the blue began to fade. No sooner had it begun to dim than Rider's own Noble Phantasm started to gutter out. Both Servants faltered, panting, as the light vanished and the destroyed building came back in sight. Beyond the tattered remains of the walls, Rider could see the next building over, a small green light blinking on its roof. A stalemate. Levelling the blade at Archer again, Rider awaited orders. **

**It was the other Master who spoke first. Clearly enraged, the red-eyed Magus clutched at a tear in his black tuxedo. Some of the debris must have caught him before Archer's Noble Phantasm had come into effect. Rider thought he saw foam at the corner of the man's mouth.**

" **How _dare_ you?!" Spittle flew as Rider's enemy screeched. "The nerve... how dare you corner me like that?!" Rider allowed himself a smile; here was a man obsessed with control. "Archer! Archer, withdraw for now. _Now!_ " the other Master cast his bloody glare at Isaac. The boy was panting, his hair blown about crazily by the wind. He'd said nothing since Durandal awakened.**

" **Mark my words, El-Melloi. I will be the one who takes your life! I will return, and when I do, I will cut out your mongrel's heart and eat it!" Still shaking with rage, the other Magus allowed himself to be scooped up by Archer. With a single superhuman leap, the Servant carried him off, landing on the next building before disappearing into Fuyuki's skyline.**

 **Placing his hands on his hips, Isaac looked around at the ruined building. "Well," he sighed, "I suppose we'll need to find somewhere else to stay."**

* * *

 _ **Interlude Out**_

* * *

 _Author's Notes: And there it is, the first confirmed Servant identity! I've left a couple hints to Archer's identity in there too; see if you can guess! (Think outside the box - one hint has been there since the prologue) In the meantime, please leave me feedback as always._

 _Also, I must apologise. The summary of this story promises an original cast of Servants, but some of the Heroic Spirits I thought up to use in Fate/SEVER have been adapted and used in the game Fate/Grand Order. I won't say which ones or how many, but for the most part I've done what I can to make their abilities and personalities at least a little different, with the exception of one who charmed me so much in F/GO that I rewrote their character to match the canon. I hope this doesn't affect your enjoyment in any way._

 _~Bass_


	7. Status Screen (Chapter 2)

**Summary of Master/Servant information as of Chapter 2**

* * *

 **Servants:**

* * *

 **Saber**

* * *

 **True Name:**?

* * *

 **Master:** Tohsaka Renzoku, ninth generation head of the Tohsaka family.

* * *

 **Statistics:  
**

* * *

 **Strength: B**

 **Mana: C**

 **Endurance: B**

 **Luck: C**

 **Agility: A**

 **Noble Phantasm: ?  
**

* * *

 **Class Skills:  
**

* * *

Battle Continuation Rank C

Magic Resistance Rank A

* * *

 **Personal Skills:  
**

* * *

UNKNOWN Rank B: Saber's years studying martial arts have enabled him to read an opponent's moves flawlessly, by weighing up and eliminating their options. Makes other fighters seem clumsy.

* * *

 **Archer  
**

* * *

 **True Name: ?  
**

* * *

 **Master:** Otori Chagatai, an enigmatic and powerful Magus.

* * *

 **Statistics:  
**

* * *

 **Strength: C**

 **Mana: C+**

 **Endurance: D**

 **Luck: C**

 **Agility: A**

 **Noble Phantasm: A  
**

* * *

 **Class Skills:  
**

* * *

Magic Resistance Rank D

Independent Action Rank A

* * *

 **Personal Skills:  
**

* * *

Trueshot Rank A: As long as he has enough time to focus, Archer will, with absolute certainty, hit his target within a range of 30 meters.

* * *

 **Noble Phantasm(s):**

* * *

 _ **Lorothi Ankaris Volurna:**_ Archer's bow. It symbolises his personal skill Trueshot. His A Rank in this skill allows him to, with absolute certainty, hit his intended target with Lorothi Ankaris Volurna as long as they are within 30 metres of his location. (His own accuracy makes hits at greater distances still very likely)

When its true name is spoken, its next arrow will strike with the destructive power of an A-Rank Noble Phantasm (on par with EMIYA's Caladbolg II)

 **Class:** Anti-Unit

 **Maximum number of targets:** 1 person

 **Range:** 100

 **Rank:** A

* * *

 **Rider**

* * *

 **True Name: _Charlemagne_** , the Father of Europe

* * *

 **Master:** Isaac Velvet, Lord El-Melloi IV. A prestigious Magus from the Clock Tower.

* * *

 **Statistics:**

* * *

 **Strength:** **B**

 **Mana: C**

 **Endurance: A**

 **Luck: A+**

 **Agility: D**

 **Noble Phantasm: A++**

* * *

 **Class Skills:**

* * *

Magic Resistance Rank C

Riding Rank A

* * *

 **Personal Skills:**

* * *

Charisma Rank A: This Servant can lead armies and nations with equal ease.

Divinity Rank E: Charlemagne's beatification and status as a Saint grant him a low rank of Divinity as well as a slight resistance to holy weapons.

* * *

 **Noble Phantasm(s):**

* * *

 _ **Durandal, The Peerless Sword:**_ A fine blade worthy of the king, granted by an angel and later awarded to the legendary paladin Roland, its strikes are of a power on par with Caliburn should its name be spoken. However, every strike made while Durandal is active consumes vast quantities of mana. Even a first-rate Magus would be completely paralysed by the strain if Rider swung it continuously.

 **Class:** Anti-Unit  
 **Maximum number of targets:** 1-100  
 **Rank:** B+ (Conditionally A+)

* * *

 **Assassin**

* * *

 **True Name:** ?

* * *

 **Master:** Kage, a mysterious magical gun-for-hire. Known as the Faceless Magus Killer.

* * *

 **Statistics:**

* * *

 **Strength: E**

 **Mana: D+**

 **Endurance: D++**

 **Luck: B**

 **Agility: C-EX**

 **Noble Phantasm: ?**

* * *

 **Class Skills:**

* * *

Presence Concealment Rank A

* * *

 **Personal Skills:**

* * *

 **UNKNOWN**


End file.
